Bangkok Boy (11 page)

Here we were at last, face to face with our precious little boy whom we named Chuan. I felt sorry for the poor thing. We weren’t ready for his arrival and so had no clothes, bottles or any other baby gear. It’s a bad omen to buy such things before the birth, so being superstitious we were unprepared.

Chuan was an adorable baby, and very handsome. But I was careful to ward off evil spirits by loudly proclaiming that he looked ‘hideous and ugly’. By doing this I tried to fool the evil spirits so they would leave him alone. After the hullabaloo of the birth, I rushed off to Prathunam to buy baby clothes. Despite being over-excited, sleepy, and clueless, I managed to get five matching sets, albeit with the help of a shop assistant. I figured that would be plenty for the time being. When Nuan saw the clothes she laughed so hard the nurses warned her she might rupture her stitches. Apparently, the clothes I’d bought were more likely to fit a three-year-old than a three-day-old. She joked that I was trying to bury our son in an avalanche of oversized clothes. We ended up chuckling away and I confessed I was a little inexperienced to say the least. Nuan advised me to stick with moneymaking and to leave the baby rearing to her.

Papa John eventually discovered my family secret. He confronted me as to why I was always running off on him, and I had no choice but admit that I had a partner and newborn son. He took the news surprisingly well. I was certain he’d feel angry or cheated but instead he asked to meet Nuan and Chuan and from then on he became a member of our small family. He was genuinely happy for us, he bought toys and gifts, and Nuan would often wrap Chuan up and take him to visit Uncle John at his hotel. He continued to support us and made our lives a great deal easier.

Buddhists believe the process of dying begins with the very first breath we take. I also believe that every birth is counterbalanced by a death, and vice versa. This proved to be the case with my family.

Shortly after Chuan was born, my brother Chamnan called to tell me that on their recent trip home, Choke was killed in an accident. Apparently, they had been drinking and joyriding with two mutual friends. Choke was squatting on the flat floorboard of the scooter John bought him while his two friends were sitting on the seat; Chamnan followed behind on his bike. They were racing like daredevils and none of them were wearing helmets or protective gear. It was crazy behaviour, but they were on quiet country roads and just assumed they’d be safe.

At that precise moment a teacher from our village was showing his wife how to drive his pick-up truck, but the woman lost control of the truck and went careening straight into Choke’s scooter. Choke’s body was tossed into the air like a rag doll and came crashing down onto the vehicle’s bonnet. He hit it with such force his stomach burst open. He died upon impact. Chamnan, who witnessed the entire incident, was so traumatised he began vomiting uncontrollably. To this day, he is unable to erase the images of Choke’s death, who was only 26 years old, from his mind.

Devastated by the loss, I diverted my energies into caring for my son. My parents and other siblings must have followed my example and flocked to see our new baby. I was brave for my son’s sake, yet it was difficult to find distraction from the guilt I felt over Choke’s death. After all, it was I who first introduced him to John, and it was John who bought Choke the scooter. If John hadn’t become my brother’s patron then he would’ve never met such an end. It was irrational to blame myself I know, but grief distorts logic. Karma works in mysterious ways. Why had this tragedy befallen Choke and not me? I can only think that I must have earned some excellent merit in past incarnations, and only these had kept me alive. John was so distraught over the loss of Choke—his favourite boy—that he distanced himself from the rest of us.

After Choke’s death, Chamnan came to me for a chat. He hesitatingly said, ‘I want to change careers, Chai. I’m done with selling my body; I’m sick and tired of the vicious cycle of being broke, earning, and then blowing it all, only to find myself broke yet again. I believe the money we earn from trading our bodies is cursed; it seems to have no value and if we’re honest, we’ll never be prosperous this way!’

I was incredulous. How could he leave his work and —most importantly—desert me? Especially after we’d lost our brother?

He patiently continued. ‘I miss country life, brother. I want to invest the sweat of my body in something productive, something that will make me value what I earn and make me proud of my achievements! I’ve a job opening in Prachinburi at a shrimp farm. They provide accommodation, food, and yes, the salary is small, but it’s regular.’

When I found out how much he’d earn, I exploded in a fit of rage. ‘You’re a fool to go to the backwoods of some nowhere province for only 5,000 baht a month even if the job’s perks include a bit of food and a roof over your head!’

His final words broke my heart, for I knew they conveyed that he no longer respected me. ‘Chai, I can’t follow in your footsteps any longer. You’ve lost your way and I can’t lose mine; I can’t let you take what little opportunities I’ve left from me. If you were smart you’d join me!’

So with that, he left the sex-for-sale scene and I’d lost the love of two brothers.

I was devastated, but tried to remind myself of those who remained with me and the responsibility I had towards them. I had a loyal and understanding partner, and a young son who set my life ablaze with joy. I felt better for the fact that there were two people who desperately wanted me in their lives; and this always helped when the sadness of missing my brothers threatened to overshadow me. My financial situation was reasonable and I handed most of my earnings to Nuan, just as I had Dao; the difference being, Nuan was thrifty and so we didn’t live beyond our means.

CHAPTER 11

I was unable to keep my promise to stop working as a prostitute on becoming a father and I kept dancing and hustling for several years afterwards.

It became increasingly difficult though to find clients in Silom Soi 2 so I opted for a change of scenery. I therefore moved to a very popular gay bar in Soi Twilight. Although I would never hear from Papa John again, it didn’t take me long to find a new patron. He was an American called Thomas. We hit it off amazingly well and he soon asked me to be his boy. He shared a house with several
farang
friends to save on rent. I moved in as both the resident houseboy and a tourist guide and showed them around the usual sight-seeing destinations. The house was spacious and nicely decorated, but Thomas was not as generous as I’d hoped. He tried to keep me on a leash with an allowance of only 10,000 baht a month, which simply wasn’t enough to raise a family on. Of course, I didn’t tell him I had a young family and he most likely thought this amount of money was more than adequate for one person.

Leading a double life and travelling back and forth between Thomas and Nuan took its toll and I became increasingly stressed. I was trying my best to make more money especially considering how precarious my ‘houseboy’ position was.

Thomas didn’t like me working as a go-go dancer and was eager to make our relationship exclusive. So I was forced to sneak out of the house either to go to work or to visit my family while Thomas was at work. I managed to visit Nuan and my son at least twice a week to give them what money I could.

We decided to let Chuan’s hair grow and by the time he started preschool, he looked like Mowgli from
The Jungle Book
. His dark locks were always immaculately clean and he was always well-groomed for Nuan was an excellent mother. He attracted admiring stares wherever we went, and a wealthy Chinese silk-shop owner even went so far as to ask us to give Chuan to him. The
tao kae
, or ‘rich Chinese businessman’ and his wife desperately wanted a boy to carry on their family name. Although he had three grown daughters, all of whom were successful doctors, it was not enough for them. I reckon the
tao kae
was also attracted to my boy because I’m half-Chinese. For the Chinese, sons are treated with reverence, and Nuan and I knew that, had we given Chuan up, he would have led a very comfortable life. The
tao kae
even asked us to allow a doctor of physiognomy to examine Chuan. The theory behind physiognomy is based upon the idea that a person’s physical appearance, particularly their face, can give a
sin sae
insight into his or her character and personality. Nuan and I didn’t mind the
sin sae
examining our baby because we were more than a little curious as to what he’d say. Every inch of Chuan was examined, even down to the shape and length of his fingers. Eventually, the
sin sae
announced that Chuan would be an auspicious addition to the
tao kae’s
family.

At first, Nuan and I were flattered that such a respectable family wanted to adopt our child but their pleas were incessant and eventually became annoying. Nuan finally refused to listen to them anymore. She informed them politely that Chuan was her son and that she would raise him, however difficult it may be.

Although this type of adoption is not common practice in Patpong, it does happen. Bar girls, for example, would sometimes offer their children to bus-iness owners or other prospective buyers but were mostly turned down. Considering the number of unplanned pregnancies, there are plenty of children on offer. But certain ‘good people’ generally fear that a child born to a prostitute or to any bad blood might bring misfortune to their household. I completely understood why many women wanted to give up their children. Not only were they not prepared for the additional responsibility, but I don’t think they relished the thought of telling their child how they had come into being. To top it off, they weren’t in a position to give up prostitution, for most have no other option. I’d been in a similar position when I asked Dao to abort our child. Things hadn’t improved that much more when Nuan fell pregnant, but our feelings for one another were strong and this strength was the glue to hold our little family together. The first time I laid eyes on my precious baby I made a promise that I wouldn’t fail him or his mother. I’d already failed so many people, but I was determined never to fail my family.

One night at the go-go bar, I met a Dutchman named Erik. He sat with a Thai woman who I assumed was either his girlfriend or a guide helping him to procure a man. On what I considered lucky occasions, I was bought by couples and ordered to pleasure the wife while the husband lustfully looked on. In this case, I assumed that Erik was gay so I directed my attention towards him. He became increasingly uncomfortable, though, and finally explained that he wasn’t actually gay but did need a man to star in some porn movies. It seemed that I was the man he was looking for. The Thai woman, who turned out to be his wife, introduced herself as Wan and complimented me on my clean-looking and nicely shaped
khong.
Erik was promising 35,000 baht a month for my time, so I wasn’t going to turn down an appointment to meet at his hotel on Sukhumvit Road to discuss the job in more detail. I was surprised by my good luck and congratulated myself for having stumbled upon this golden opportunity. My earnings from the bar, even when combined with Thomas’s allowance, weren’t enough to cover the expenses of two adults and a child, not to mention the little extra I wanted for myself.

The following day, I met Erik in the hotel lobby. We bought a few beers and took a seat in a secluded corner. He assured me that his porn films would only be distributed on the Internet via a subscription website based in Holland. From the start he was upfront about what type of pornography he wanted to produce. He told me that the best adjective to describe it was ‘unconventional’. He wanted to film Thai women ‘playing’ with human excrement, urine and vomit; and also have a dog feature at some point in the movie. My face instantly registered utter disgust. Erik then quickly affirmed that the camera would be focused on the women the majority of the time, so I needn’t worry too much. Most of the subscribers would be logging on to view the women anyway, not the men. My gut instinct was to just get up and walk away, but Erik pleaded with me to think about it, saying that he needed someone with my talents. I excused myself to go to the bathroom.

I went over the proposal in my mind several times. Finally I concluded that since I’d participated in so many other less-than-desirable activities through the years, what difference would one more make? It wasn’t as if I was some sort of fairytale character—I think Buddha must have been all out of happy-ever-afters by the time I reached the top of the queue. I began to recall some of the scenarios I’d gotten myself into over the years.

Once an African client asked if he could penetrate me but I saw that his manhood was far too big. So he asked me to give him oral sex instead, but I couldn’t fit his penis into my mouth without half-choking on it. So in lieu of fellatio, I used both of my hands to literally wrestle with his monstrous piece which I licked from base to tip to help speed up his climax. He was a gentleman though and respected my limitations, but the taste and odour made my stomach turn. In my experience, not all black men are well endowed, but this man was definitely well above average.

I also remember a very strange, clean-cut
farang
who used to hang out in the bar’s toilet. He’d approach go-go boys and offer to pay them to urinate into his mouth while he masturbated. I’m not kidding—he actually paid to drink our urine. We go-go boys used to roar with laughter whenever we talked about him and used to look forward to our toilet sessions. He became so well-known, in fact, the second he turned up we’d all start ordering large beers. While he preferred younger boys, he was willing to give 200 baht to anyone streaming their pee down his throat. Some boys managed to make three or four rounds a night and so made up to 800 baht. Hell, some of us saw these trips to the bathroom as a way of paying for our beers. The small toilet area would often be crowded with snickering bar boys lining up to empty their bladders for a fee. I’ve seen him around different bars over the years and he still appears healthy despite his strange fetish. It was bizarre indeed to see his eyes light up as soon as my bladder started to empty. He later wised up though, and lowered his price to a much more modest 20 baht a shot.

I also remembered that clients would sometimes ask me to get them
ya ba
, or amphetamine pills, which were relatively easy to find in the days before Prime Minister Thaksin’s war on narcotics. Once upon a time, it was just a few baht per tablet and they could be purchased at pharmacies or gas stations. It wasn’t the drug of choice though for it was mainly labourers or truck drivers who used it. Ironically, after it became illegal, its price and popularity skyrocketed to the extent that it has become nothing short of a scourge on our youth. Last I heard the cost had more than tripled since before the ban.

A roadside vendor-cum-dealer on Sathon Soi 1 was the regular trading spot for people who were in the know. Sathon is the main business centre of Bangkok and not an area many would associate with drug dealing.

I’d always travel by taxi to do my deals. When the taxi arrived at the agreed spot, I’d lower the passenger window, raise my hand and nod. The person I was meeting would then approach and enquire how much I wanted and then promptly return with the goods. On one occasion, such a deal netted me an extra 5,000 baht, on top of my usual fee for sex.

The ‘messiest’ service I ever provided for a fee was during a New Year celebration in Pattaya. A farang bought a slew of boys from a go-go bar. The deal was that each boy would be paid 2,000 baht to ejaculate into his mouth in the privacy of his hotel room. Word got round to nearby bars and many extras had turned up on the appointed night. The
farang
awaited his semen ‘shower’ dressed in a very lavish suit. Ten boys would enter at a time while the others waited in the lobby. You would think that huddles of young men loitering in a hotel lobby would have aroused suspicion, but nobody said anything. The whole thing felt a little ridiculous, but I saw it as easy money. I usually had to perform a song and dance for the same amount at the bar. We joked that this experience of group masturbation was like the seasonal kite-flying contests we’d have as kids. The only difference was that those contests involved real kites .

Not all of the boys were able to perform though. Some were struck by stage fright and so forfeited their fee.

Still in the bathroom pondering all I had done for money in the past, I concluded that I’d participated in some very odd, dirty, and frequently illegal situations, so the prospect of smearing someone with faeces wouldn’t really be that outlandish. Besides, I desperately needed the money. So that was it. The decision was made.

The studio, a townhouse in disguise, was in Nonthaburi, a province that adjoins Bangkok, but in reality is more like a suburb of the city. From the outside, our workplace looked very innocent indeed, and no one would’ve suspected what was really going on inside. Erik had already warned the cast and crew to keep their mouths shut about what we were up to.

I didn’t feel particularly nervous making dirty porn. I quashed any rumblings of guilt by reminding myself that I was being well paid. Several other men were also acting in the films and all seemed to have adopted the same attitude. Our female co-stars had been recruited from bars in Nana. I scanned the room and saw many of them were obviously past their prime as prostitutes, whereas the few younger members were clearly desperate for money. Before shooting, the cast was required to test negative for STDs and AIDS. I later learned that Wan, Erik’s wife, used to work in a Thaniya bar and had married a Japanese client. They later divorced though, and she married Erik. She obviously played a pivotal role in recruiting the women, negotiating prices, and so on.

Once we were assembled, we were given our individual roles and told who would be our partners. Once my partners had a face, the thought of committing unspeakable acts against them became all the more real and alarming. So I
wai
’d the woman, apologising in advance for what I was about to do. They all seemed resigned to their fates, however, and barely acknowledged my humble requests for forgiveness.

In some scenes, the women would smear my faeces all over their bodies pretending to like it. But, the most horrible shot by far involved me tying up and stripping my co-star. I then proceeded to smear her face, body and hair with the same matter. I wore gloves of course, but the smell was ghastly and I came close to vomiting on several occasions. These scenes went on for ages, shooting and re-shooting from every angle imaginable. As soon as a scene was over the women would run for the showers and scrub themselves raw.

A dog also shared one of the lead roles. He was injected with a stimulant that made him sexually excited and also very aggressive. The shoot was completed by an act of bestiality. The dog occasionally got carried away though, and even bit a few girls.

Some of the mellower scenes involved me having sex with three women, or ejaculating into a woman’s mouth. The women were paid between 20,000 and 30,000 baht each depending on how many scenes they featured in. I asked Erik why he didn’t just make porn films featuring regular coupling. That type of movie, he said, was for good-looking actors who had beautiful bodies; this kind, on the other hand, was for our type.

None of the actors were happy to be engaging in such displays but we all had our reasons, and focusing on these helped us through them. My reason was the welfare of my family, and I suspected other actors had similar motivations.

I worked for Erik intermittently for almost a year and have no idea how many movies in total I starred in. Wan and Erik even performed in some of the scenes themselves. I managed to keep my job a secret the entire time, especially from Thomas. I didn’t contact anyone participating in these films after I left: enough was enough. Not only had the work been awful, but it also was extremely monotonous.